BETWEEN TWO DEVILS

THE DECISION

I didn’t go home.

I sat on a bench in Central Park at 8pm, Mateo Vance’s rejection echoing in my ears. “You’ll hear from HR.”

HR. Like I was just another resume. Like five years meant nothing. Like the way he used to know my coffee order meant nothing.

My phone buzzed. Mom.

“Hey baby, how’d the interview go?” Her voice was tired. Thinner than last Tuesday.

I pressed my forehead to my knees. “Good, Ma. They said they’ll call.”

Lie.

The truth sat heavy in my chest. Her Stage 2 cancer chemo bill was $4,200 this month. My savings had $312. Rent was due in 10 days. The Vance Tower job paid $7,000 a month plus insurance.

I needed that job. Even if it meant walking past Mateo every morning. Even if it meant pretending my heart didn’t still race at his name.

But could I? Could I sit across from him and act like he was a stranger? Like he didn’t ruin me and rebuild me all at once?

“I’ll let you know, okay? Love you,” I whispered and hung up before the tears came.

I needed air. Needed to not think about hospital bills or Mateo’s cold eyes.

I walked three blocks to a bar called The Ember. Dim lights. Loud music. The kind of place where nobody asked questions.

I ordered whiskey. Straight.

“Rough day?” The bartender asked, sliding the glass over.

“Rough five years,” I admitted, downing the first shot. Ordered another.

That’s when he sat down next to me.

Warm smile. Messy brown hair that looked like he ran his hands through it. Eyes the color of whiskey, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. He looked like trouble. The safe kind.

“First time here?” he asked. American accent, soft. Nothing like Mateo’s sharp, cutting CEO tone.

“First time being this pathetic,” I said.

He laughed. Not mocking. Real. “I’m Noah. And you don’t look pathetic. You look like someone who needs a drink buddy and zero judgment.”

“Noah,” I tested his name. It felt light. Easy. Nothing like Mateo.

We talked for an hour. About his dog, about my Mom’s garden, about nothing that mattered. He made me laugh. Real laughs that hurt my cheeks. He made me forget Vance Tower for 60 minutes. Forget Mateo’s shadow. Forget the chemo bills.

“Need a cab?” Noah asked when I finished my third drink. He was already waving one down. Opened the door like a gentleman from old movies.

“Thanks, Noah,” I whispered, sliding in. He gave the driver my address. Didn’t ask for my number. Didn’t push. Just safe.

All night in my tiny apartment, I tried to sleep. But my mind wouldn’t shut up.

Mateo’s voice replayed: “You’ll hear from HR.” Cold. Final. Dismissive.

But Noah’s smile kept creeping in. The way his arm brushed mine at the bar. How his shirt fit across his chest when he reached for his wallet. How safe he made me feel, like I could breathe.

I tossed. Turned. Sheets tangled around my legs. My body felt restless, aching with thoughts I shouldn’t have. Thoughts of Mateo’s dark eyes on me across a desk. Of the way he used to touch my wrist like he owned my pulse.

I pressed my pillow to my face and tried to breathe. Tried to forget. Tried to want Noah instead.

Sleep finally came, heavy and restless. Full of dreams I couldn’t remember in the morning.

I woke up tangled in sheets, Mateo’s name still on my lips. Not Noah’s.

Two days later, my email dinged while I was at Mom’s appointment.

**Subject: Offer - Executive Assistant Position, Vance Enterprises**

My hands shook as I opened it.

Congratulations. You’ve been selected...

I got the job.

Mateo was waiting for me at Vance Tower.